Tuesday, September 11, 2007

Loch Linnhe

Loch Linnhe.

Morning air, rain-washed
Still soft, threaded through with light
From the new-born sun.

Through the trees, the hills
Rise, round, green, above the loch,
And water dances.

The air is the wine
Before my eyes is the bread,
This true communion.

(c) C P Brooks


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